


Whitechapel

by duz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Jack the Ripper - Freeform, M/M, Male Character of Color, Male/Male
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duz/pseuds/duz
Summary: Against the backdrop of London in the late 1880s, a young policeman determined to bring down the Ripper forms a tenuous relationship with an unconventional prostitute. Can Dai catch a man who always seems two steps ahead of him before his new friend becomes Jack's next victim? ((Basically Jack the Ripper reimagined to be gay))
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. The Ten Bells

Fog hung thickly in the air. It rolled against the windows of the public house like a foamy head of beer. Late summer warmth lingered in daylight hours, but chills creeped in as the sun fell. Dense clouds of mist formed over the harbor and snaked through the city, casting a white shadow through the streets of Whitechapel. 

Dominic didn’t care about the fog. He didn’t even notice it unless he was staring at the window and he had no reason to do so. Not with Annie at his elbow, fluttering her kohl-stained lashes at a drunkard. Sarah sat at his other elbow. 

“Y’sure ar’ lucky,” Will mused as he poured another beer for Dominic. He slid it across the bar top with a smile. “Two be’utiful ladies wit’ ya, y’dog.” 

Dominic only grinned, gripping the mug of beer and taking a long slug. Annie was a friend, a colleague of sorts, nothing more. And Sarah?

“’Ey, g’fuck yerself in the arse, y’miserable git!” The blonde woman screeched, slopping beer down her front with a gregarious wave of her arm. 

Sarah wasn’t his type. She’d been practically raised in The Ten Bells and it showed. She could hold her own against anyone who stumbled inside her father’s pub and drink with the best–or worst–of them. Those qualities would typically fall squarely into his type, but Sarah was missing a few essential elements to attract Dominic. One in particular. Not to mention she was just 16 and Dominic was in his late 20s. Not a huge distance, but it was a good excuse whenever she drunkenly wondered why he never hit on her. 

“Respect m’self too much to shag this tosser’s kid,” he’d declare and Sarah would laugh and laugh while Will feigned insult. 

Tonight, however, Sarah hadn’t asked. Neither had Annie, though she never did. It was one of the reasons they worked the pub so harmoniously–they each had a starkly different clientele. 

Men approached Annie far more often than Dominic. She’d smile, flirt professionally, and leave with them if the mood was right and the offer good. Dominic wished her well, not envying the unwashed miscreants she sometimes accepted. It wasn’t that he was an elitist; he’d probably accept those men too, if they’d approached him. Hell, he’d accept the right woman if she offered, though that had yet to happen.

The type of men who sought Dominic’s service were typically of a different breed. Otherwise unseen in the East End, well dressed businessmen and politicians slinked in the back way of the Ten Bells, whispering their illicit desires in Dominic’s ear. He was a large, strong man and he could take almost anything a client was inclined to dole out. And so sadists and rich twats–who had a peculiar habit of being one in the same–came to see Dom.

There were far fewer men working the streets of London. Most were young boys, children of broken homes or poverty. They had their own clientele too, though it made Dominic’s nose wrinkle with disgust. When men wanted little boys, they found them. When they wanted men, they came to Dominic. 

No one had come knocking at the back door that night–at least not yet–and so Dominic sucked on his beer between Annie and Sarah. He was in no rush. There was plenty of money stashed in the heavy crimson urn near his fireplace to cover his room for months. Even so, it was hard to keep his golden eyes from roving. He turned over each potential customer in his mind, either flat out rejecting them or filing them away for further consideration. The raggedy wino was immediately disqualified, because Dominic could smell him from across the bar. His maybe pile consisted of a sailor he’d seen a few times before and the Fidgety Man.

The Fidgety Man had been sitting near the door when Dominic entered. Nearly an hour later, he was still nursing the same beer. Even now and again he’d bring it to his lips and take the tiniest sip. As he did, Dominic swore he saw the man’s eyes scanning the room, examining every patron in much the same way Dom did. 

“Hey,” Dom whispered, leaning over the counter. “I think Brown Eyes by the door is a copper.”

Will looked up from wiping the counter to squint at Fidgety Man, then shrugged. “So?”

Rolling his eyes, Dominic cocked his head to inconspicuously observe Fidgety Man. Hands white as the London fog toyed with his half-empty beer. He was well dressed but his clothes were perfunctory, designed to serve their purpose and nothing more. Silky black hair fell against his ears and into his dark, almond-shaped eyes. Though he tried to act casual, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable in the pub. 

“Exotic, huh?” Will teased, watching Dominic watch Fidgety Man.

“Shut up,” Dom grumbled. 

Exotic was his clients’ word of choice. He’d had it whispered in his ear a thousand times. A drunken businessman would kiss Dom’s dark caramel muscles, fist a hand in his long mane of tight, black curls, peer into his flashing golden eyes, then finally murmur the dreaded words: You’re so exotic.

He supposed Fidgety Man did look exotic, even if it was in a completely different way than himself. Polishing off his beer, Dominic pushed away from the bar. With a conspirators’ wink to Will, he ambled to the exotic fidgeter’s table.

“This seat taken?” Dominic purred. The rough edges of his voice smoothed as he slipped into the posher accent he tended to use around customers. He sat without waiting for an answer. 

Fidgety Man regarded him for a moment before gesturing a welcome. Muscles bulged under his crisp linen shirt with the movement, hinting at strength Dom hadn’t noticed from across the room. His nose was long and straight over thin, slightly downturned lips. Up close, he didn’t seem so nervous. He just glanced at Dom every down and again and sipped his beer.

“What brings you here?” Dom asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching his thick legs. His ankle brushed against Fidgety Man’s and he felt him stiffen–just for a moment–before relaxing.

“Work,” he said, confirming Dom’s suspicion. 

“Uh huh. Lookin’ for a free piece?”

Fidgety Man blinked. “Piece of what?”

Dom just stared, squinting as he tried to determine if Fidgety Man was being serious. His expression didn’t change from innocent confusion and Dom tilted his head back and laughed. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured. “Don’t worry about it, Constable.”

Fidgety Man stiffened again and this time he did not relax until Dominic waved his hands dismissively. “Don’t worry–your secret’s safe with me. What’s your name?”

Fidgety Man sighed; he’d already been made. “Daisuke. Most people call me Dai.”

“Dai? That’s a helluva name, Constable. Where you from, anyway?”

“London.”

“No,” Dom countered. He brought his hands up and pulled on the corner of his eyes, lengthening them in a mockery of Dai’s slits. “Y’know.” 

Daisuke’s face darkened. His mouth twisted into a frown. He repeated his answer, more forcefully this time. “I am from London. And yourself? I did not realize ships were still coming in from the Gold Coast.” 

Instead of being insulted, Dominic just laughed. “Oh, yeah. I was a special delivery.” 

The animosity he’d felt at Dom’s tasteless question melted away. It was obvious the man meant no harm, and he’d taken Dai’s own slight with grace. Dai’s frown morphed to a smirk. “I do not doubt it.” 

“Oh-ho-ho,” Dom chuckled. “Are you singing my song, Constable?”

“I know the tune,” Dai said slyly. 

Dominic looked him up and down, observing him in a new light now that he had an idea of the constable’s proclivities. “Is that so? What music do you wan-”

“Not tonight,” Dai interrupted. “I am working.” 

Working. Right. What sort of business did the policeman have at The Ten Bells? Obviously it wasn’t a prostitution sting or Dom would already be in handcuffs, along with half the women in the place. Dom did not know what else there was to investigate in Whitechapel. Sure, there were ample robberies, muggings, the occasional rape or murder. Over the years the Met had shown it did not give a flying fuck about Whitechapel or the safety of its inhabitants. Division H was mostly for show and everyone knew it. 

“Shall I leave you, then?” Dominic asked, leaning on his elbows to grin at Daisuke. 

“Yes,” he replied. The swiftness of his answer cut. Dom swore there was a note of regret in his voice. Ever the professional, however, Dominic nodded and got up, trekking back to the bar and Will’s eager face.

“Well?” Will asked.

“Definitely a cop. Says he’s workin’.”

Will’s eyes widened, taking in his mostly legitimate business. “Workin’? Here? I ain’t done nothin’!” 

“Calm down, shite-for-brains. Don’t think he’s here for you. Somethin’ else.”

“What?”

Dominic shrugged his broad shoulders. “Didn’t say.” 

Will leaned close, dropping his voice to a hush. “Y’think it’s ‘bout Mary?”

Mary. Dominic hadn’t known her well, but news of her had travelled quickly through Whitechapel. Last Friday, in the early hours of the morning, someone had murdered her. Slit her throat clean through to the bone with two slices. Rumor had it that her stomach had been ripped open. Dom imagined a butcher’s bloody workroom with poor Mary’s intestines hanging like garlands from the meat hooks. He grimaced at his own morbid imagination and nodded to Will.

“Maybe. Damn, nice to see someone givin’ a shite for once, eh?”

Before Will could reply, Sarah joined them. The men steered the conversation to more appropriate topics. Dom followed the conversation without effort; Will and Sarah were as close to family as he had. Sarah’s mum had died in childbirth a couple of years before Dom had entered the picture. He wasn’t her father, wasn’t romantically involved with Will. Mostly, he was her promiscuous and  _ exotic  _ uncle. 

Dom kept an eye on the constable. He hadn’t moved from his seat near the door. He hadn’t finished his beer, either. It was merely a prop as he vigilantly inspected the pub’s patrons. Every now and again, he’d catch Dom’s eye. The man would smile wide, sometimes wink, and Dai would look away in embarrassment. Dominic imagined the flushing man coming toe-to-toe with whatever monster had mutilated Mary–then he hoped that it would be someone else who would catch the madman, for Dai looked as though a strong enough storm gull could send him flying down the streets. 

He had muscles–Dom had seen them up close. But he lacked the large, thick physique Dom proudly sported. In Dom’s opinion, anyone smaller than he was weaker. Daisuke was definitely smaller. Bigger than Will, smaller than Dom. What would he be like in a fight? Surely he knew how to handle one, if he was an officer of the law. Did the frumpy outfit he’d hopefully picked as a pauper’s disguise mask an unseen strength? Dom wanted to know. He wanted to know what he’d see when he unbuttoned the shirt, slid the faded fabric down Dai’s arms and…

“Allo? Dom, y’wit us, mate?”

“Eh?”

Sarah and Will exchanged sly looks. 

“Whatchu starin’ at, uncle Dom?”

Dom put his back to the constable, who was watching with interest. “None’a y’damn business, Sarah, that’s what. Doncha got a table to wipe or somethin’?”

A couple of years ago, Sarah would have stuck her tongue out at him. Now, she gave him a two-fingered salute. 

Her father threw a rag at her. “Ayyy,” he griped, “Manners. Yer a lady, fer christsake!” 

“Uncle Dom’s more’a lady than me,” she retorted. Dom threw the salute back at her as she trounced off to clear tables. 

It was getting late. No potential customers had caught Dom’s eye, apart from Daisuke. He didn’t quite count, as Dom always gave coppers the first fuck free, and Dai had firmly established that he was Busy. 

Dom glanced out the window, through the foggy streets. He let a small flat in the building adjacent to The Ten Bells. The building was squat brick latticed with rusting iron railings and walkways that went nowhere. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world, or even the nicest in Whitechapel, but the landlady was easygoing and didn’t care what Dom did so long as he paid on time. Besides, it was convenient to be so close to the pub. He only had to cross the street with a John, climb a few staircases, and it was business time. 

“Say, Will.”

“Yeah?”

“Gimmie a rag. I’ll clean some tables and help Sarah put up the chairs.” 

Will eyed Dom suspiciously, but handed over the rag. “Y’never help us shut down.”

Dom shrugged. Most of the patrons had trickled out. Only the most persistent lushes remained glued to their benches, trying to wrestle one more round out of Will. The winos and the constable. 

“See y’finished yer beer,” Dom teased, plucking the glass from the table.

“See you are using your real voice,” Dai responded, staring evenly at Dom. 

Dom didn’t know what to say to that, so he just shrugged again. “Find what you was lookin’ for?”

No, he had not. He’d come to the pub in hopes of catching a lead in the Nichols murder, but nothing had come of the night. Truthfully, he didn’t know quite what he was looking for. He just hoped he’d know when he saw it. 

Dai glanced to his left and right before speaking again in a lower voice. “Tell me, did you know Mary Nichols?”

“No,” Dom replied, dashing Dai’s hopes. “But I heard ‘bout ‘er and that sick fuck who cut ‘er up.”

Dai didn’t bother to correct Dom’s description of the murder. “Know anything about the ‘sick fuck’?”

“Sorry, Constable.”

Nothing. He’d had to beg to even observe the pub that evening. Nichols’ murder wasn’t a high priority to the assistant chief constable and Daisuke’s failure to obtain any new information would not bode well for the continuation of the investigation. Dai sighed. 

“Say,” Dom said, breaking Dai out of his pessimistic thoughts. “Y’look like ya’ve had a hard day. Why doncha come home with me and relax a little?”

“Oh?” Dai countered, raising an eyebrow even as he smiled. “And how much will that cost me?”

“Free of charge, copper.” 

Dai considered his bust of an evening. He considered the vast empty house waiting for him on Brook Street. Finally, he considered the handsome man grinning down at him, hand extended. 

“Alright. Lead the way.” 


	2. The Red Room

Dominic’s entire room was red. Lush drapes cascaded towards a deep crimson throw-rug. Panels of silk hung from the walls, transforming the scuffed walls underneath into something elegant. A fire crackled behind a brass screen, lit by some local urchin Dom employed to keep it burning when he was away. All things considered, it was much nicer than Daisuke had expected. Pops of gold and brass accented the room, just as Dominic’s golden eyes accented his dark hair and brown skin.  The centerpiece to the extravagant room was the bed. It was bigger than any Dai had ever seen. A deep red comforter covered satin sheets. The pillowcases were numerous, silken, and burned like fire themselves in the reflection from the hearth. 

“Heavens,” Dai breathed as he followed Dominic into the room. His companion grinned, sidestepping to allow Dai the lead. For a brief second, Dai considered sitting on the bed, but quickly discarded the idea as much too forward. Instead, he seated himself on the crushed velvet chaise lounge near the fireplace. Dom shut the door and kicked off his shoes before unfastening the buttons of his shirt with deft hands. It hung open, exposing the hard muscles of his stomach and the teasing trail of black hair leading to the top of his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Dai asked, throat suddenly dry. 

“Gettin’ comfortable. Feel free to do the same, Constable. Tea?” 

“Wha – oh. Yes, please,” he responded automatically. Dom disappeared behind a silky panel, presumably to fetch a kettle. Dai waited, hands clasped in his lap as he perched awkwardly on the chaise lounge. It seemed better suited to activities other than sitting. 

“I’m not a constable, you know,” Dai called out as Dom rifled around behind the curtain.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

Dom emerged, heavy iron kettle in hand. The warm glow highlighted every curve of Dominic’s muscles. He hung the kettle on the hook, pushed it into the fire, then faced Dai. “Then what are ya?”

“Detective Inspector.” 

“The hell’s that?”

“It’s…” Dai paused, then shook his head. “Just a rank. It does not matter.”

Steam whistled from the kettle’s spout and Dom swung it out of the fire. He prepared two cups of tea and sat them on the small table between Daisuke and the fireplace. Little bottles of cream, a bowl of sugar, and shining silver teaspoons adorned the dark lacquer tray. Dom sat next to Dai on the chaise lounge, gesturing to the tea tray.

“Cream, Constable?

A blush creeped up Dai’s collar and spread over his pale cheeks. It was difficult not to respond when Dominic was so close and making such suggestive comments. “Yes, please.”

They sipped their tea in silence. Dominic slid closer and Daisuke slid away, flattening himself against the sofa’s headrest. He could smell the spicy sweet scent of Dom’s skin, like hot mulled cider. There were different smells as well, things he hadn’t smelled on a person before. A lingering scent of chocolate. A whiff of coconut. His easy smile revealed strong, straight teeth with exaggerated canines. Dai wondered if Dominic filed them or if he’d naturally been born with pseudo-fangs. Perhaps so. Dai had never seen someone with eyes so amber. His easy demeanor intrigued Daisuke. The way Dom flashed his smile or draped himself over the chaise lounge or coyishly referred to Dai as ‘Constable’ even after he’d been corrected. 

It wasn’t a lack of attraction or desire which made Daisuke withdraw. Dominic was a very attractive man. Daisuke’s body grew hot from his proximity. No, it was embarrassment. It’d been years since Daisuke had made love and even longer since he’d shared a bed with a man. He was sure he remembered how everything worked–it was quite intuitive, after all. But he flushed and looked away when confronted with a man of Dominic’s extensive experience. Though he knew it was but a job to Dom, Daisuke still wanted to perform well. Hollow words of praise would mean nothing. He wanted the real thing or nothing at all.

Maybe going home with a prostitute hadn’t been the best decision. It had been an impulse, an emotional response to the night’s failure. Now that he was inside of Dominic’s room, drinking his tea and smelling his skin, Daisuke was not sure that he had made the right decision.

“I don’t bite, y’know,” Dominic murmured, glancing at Dai’s uncomfortable face. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Dai answered quickly. Too quickly. Dominic stared at him until Daisuke sighed. “I am just… nervous. It has been a long time.”

Dom drank his tea thoughtfully, gazing into the fire. For a long moment, he said nothing. When he did speak, his voice was soft. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ bein’ nervous, Constable,” he assured. “But we ain’t gotta do this if ya don’ wanna.” 

“I want to!” Dai exclaimed. “I just… do not want you to think…” Dai paused, unsure of how to voice his thoughts. Dominic likely did not care one way or another how Daisuke felt. Offering free services to policemen was a business decision–it would garner Dominic extra protection, should he ever need it, and keep him out of jail.

“Oh, nevermind,” he said in the end. “It is all the same to you, is it not?”

Dominic’s eyes, which had been glittering mischievously at Dai, turned cold and Daisuke knew he had said the wrong thing. 

“Oh. I did not mean… I, uh-”

“Forget it.” 

Dom stood, slipping off his shirt entirely. He hung it on a hook near the fireplace, treating Daisuke to the full view of his strong, muscular back. Moving slower than necessary, Dominic took the extra seconds to compose himself. It was not the first time a client had been his foot in his mouth. It happened all the time, literally and figuratively. He was well aware of society’s opinion of him and how he made his money. Even the men who filled his bed usually had a certain disdain for him. It was nothing new, and yet it still stung from time to time. 

By the time Dominic turned around, however, all traces of insult were gone. The easy smile had returned. “S’okay. Don’ worry ‘bout it.”

“I did not mean to insult you.”

Dominic shrugged his broad shoulders. Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’ worry ‘bout it. I’m serious. ‘Sides, I’m more interested in somethin’ else.”

“What?”

“You. Whadda ya want, Constable? What ignites your passion?”

The mattress creaked under the handsome man’s bulk. Small hollows formed under his palms as he leaned back on them, fixing Daisuke with a penetrating stare and a rakish smile.  Though he knew the question was but a professional courtesy, Dai considered it. What ignited his passion? Tracking down criminals and putting them behind bars. Knowing that London might be a little safer the next day because of him. But that probably wasn’t the answer the man was seeking. As he mulled over the question, Dai realized he did not know the man’s name.

“What’s your name?”

Dom quirked a brow. “My name ignites your passion?”

A flush crept up Dai’s neck and he shook his head. “No, I… what should I call you?”

“You can call me Adonis.”

“Adon…? That cannot be your actual name.”

Dominic’s smile widened. “You can call me Adonis,” he repeated. 

Daisuke resigned himself to it. Adonis it was. The name exchange had bought him a few seconds to consider Adonis’s question, but he still drew a blank. Unsure of what to say, he spit out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’d like to penetrate you, Adonis.”

Mirth flickered through Dominic’s eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Daisuke confirmed, a bit more confident now that he had said it. Drawing to his feet, he took a few steps towards the bed. “If you would be agreeable to such an arrangement, that is.” 

Spreading his thick thighs wide was Dominic’s reply. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Daisuke stepped between his legs. Hesitantly, he touched Adonis’s muscular shoulders. The skin was smooth and warm under his fingers. Sliding his palms down Dominic’s biceps, Dai traced the outline of his arms. Each passing moment relieved him of a little bit more hesitation so that when he finally reached Dominic’s wrists, he felt almost confident. And why should he not? Dominic had been nothing but agreeable since he’d first plopped down at Daisuke’s table, obviously interested in him. 

The interest was mutual. Dai leaned further over him, sliding their bodies flat against the mattress, then pinned Dominic’s wrists above his head. Dom gave no resistance. Thick muscles stretched, lengthening his naked torso against Dai’s clothed chest. Deep brown eyes gazed into fiery gold until, finally, Dai dipped his head and pressed their lips together.  In contrast to the hard lines of his body, Dominic’s lips were soft and supple. They parted immediately and Dom’s tongue darted out, shoving aggressively into Dai’s mouth. It traced over Dai’s teeth, rubbed his tongue, and poked into the far reaches of his mouth. While Dominic devoured his mouth, Daisuke dropped a hand between their bodies and unfastened Dom’s trousers. Dom tilted his hips upwards, making it easier for Dai to slide the pants off. 

Dominic’s cock swelled, trapped betwixt their hard stomachs. Daisuke’s stirred to life as well, straining against the pouch of his trousers. Though the weeping member dotted his undergarments with moisture, he did not yet remove his pants. Pressure, accelerated by the friction of their bodies, mounted in his nether regions. Dai squirmed, sharp nails digging into Dom’s hipbone. He wanted nothing more than to flip Dominic over, spread the fleshy globes of his rear, and pound him into the bed. Somehow, it seemed a terribly impolite thing to do. Daisuke paused, easing his nails out of Dominic’s skin. 

“S’wrong?” Dominic asked, his cheeks flushed under hazy eyes. 

“I, uh,” Daisuke stammered, “I just… is this alright? Like this?” 

Dominic stared at him long enough to make Daisuke glance away. Hastily, he drew back his hand from Dominic’s wrists and stood, smoothing the front of his shirt while pointedly ignoring the burgeoning erection tenting his trousers. “I apologize. I did not mean to-”

“Will ya shut up?” 

In a flurry of activity, Dom sprang from the back and pushed Daisuke aside with a grumble. He crossed to a small nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. It held standard items: a silver-backed hand mirror, a kerosene lamp, and a small box of richly polished wood. He picked up the box and returned to the bedside, where he glared down his nose at Daisuke.

“Siddown.” 

Daisuke sat.  Before him, Dominic stood naked. His thick, dark cock jutted proudly from between his muscular legs. Flicking the brass clasp, he opened the box. A filmy pink tube with a thin black ribbon at one end laid nestled in dark velvet. It was a curious object, one that Daisuke had never seen before. 

“Take yer pants off, Constable. I ain’t got all night.” 

Eyes cast to the floor, Daisuke slid out of his pants. They pooled around his ankles as Dai cupped his hands in his lap, shielding his erection from view. Growling gutturally–a low, primal sound which caused gooseflesh to ripple Dai’s milky skin–Dom shoved him. Hard. Caught off balance, Dai careened backward, legs flying into the air, and crashed into the mattress. His pants hung from his ankle like a flag of surrender. Dominic snatched them away, tossing the trousers over his shoulder, and pounced on Daisuke. Wind whooshed out of Dai’s lungs in response to the sudden weight atop him. He gasped, gripping at Dom’s arms, and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. 

Stop, one might have said. Wait, I am not ready. These thoughts did not enter Daisuke’s mind. His legs parted in accommodation and Dominic squeezed between them. He kissed Dai deeply, nipping at his lips, thrusting his tongue down his throat, then sat back on his heels between Daisuke’s thighs. With practiced hands, Dominic fit the shiny tube over Dai’s turgid cock. The ribbons he wrapped around the base of the shaft and then swooped under his ball sack, where he tied a small bow. It was a strange business, alien to his body, yet Daisuke did not protest. It felt good for Dominic to touch his dick, felt good to have the black ribbon tightened around his balls. 

Leaning across the bed, Dom quickly opened the nightstand’s shallow drawer and withdraw a small bottle. The viscous gel ran sluggishly down his fingers like honey from a waxy comb. Daisuke stared until Dominic brought his coated hand to Dai’s member and rubbed. Then his mouth popped open, his head fell back to the pillow, and he resumed memorizing Dominic’s ceiling. 

Placing a thick thigh on either side of Daisuke, Dominic positioned himself over his cock. One hand rested lightly on Daisuke’s chest for balance while the other worked between them, holding Daisuke’s dick steady so that Dominic could mount it. After a few fumbles, a few missed pokes, it slid in. Like steam escaping a radiator, Dominic hissed until his rear met Daisuke’s hips. 

“Oh,” Daisuke groaned, hands stuttering to Dominic’s legs. “Oh.” 

“That all ya got t’say?” 

Daisuke’s head dipped and bobbed affirmative. His hands pet over Dominic’s dark thighs as though he could not believe they were real. How quickly this had happened. It could not have been more than a half hour, an hour, since he’d let Dominic take his hand and lead him across the street from the Ten Bells. Daisuke was sure that if he relinquished his grip on Dominic’s legs, he would soon wake up in his own bed with the sheets twisted around his sweaty body and a shameful mess between his thighs–and that Dominic would be but a beautiful dream. 

So Daisuke gripped Dominic’s legs tightly when he bounced on his cock. He cut crescents into the smooth flesh when Dominic threw his head back, dark locks bursting around his face like a lion’s mane. He drew blood when Dom’s pace grew more erratic, when he caught his plump lip between his teeth and hunched, spilling hot seed over Dai’s stomach with low, shuddering gasps. It was only then that Daisuke let go of Dominic’s thighs. Blood swiped over his hips as Daisuke grabbed them, holding Dominic steady so he could thrust once, twice, and echo Dominic’s orgasm. Eyes snapping shut, he groaned at the warmth pooling in his gut. It seemed to flow out of him, passing into Dominic’s body, leaving him cooler once it had passed, tired, but content. 

Breathy pants were their shared language. Palms flat on Daisuke’s chest, Dominic lifted on his knees and slowly pulled his hips away. Dai’s cock slapped wetly against his stomach, unbelievably loud in the red room. If Dominic noticed, however, he paid it no mind. Lounging beside Daisuke, Dominic carefully untied the pink tube and slid it from Daisuke’s softening cock. Cradling it carefully in his hands, Dom disappeared behind the curtain. When he reemerged a few seconds later, it was gone. 

“What was that?” Dai asked, sitting on his elbows.

Dominic crawled back into the bed, a coy smile settled between his cheeks. He kissed Daisuke’s lips, his earlobe, his throat. “What was what?” 

“That thing,” he murmured, eyes closing as Dominic continued to pepper kisses over his body. “That thing that you put on my… that thing.” 

Chuckling, Dominic nipped Dai’s throat. “A condom. ‘Posed to keep things neat ‘n proper. Thought you’d appreciate that.” 

Flushing, Daisuke nodded. He asked no more questions and simply submitted to Dominic’s kisses. His fingers curled idly in the fleecy hair above Dominic’s soft cock. Sneaking a downward glance, he thought it was just as attractive resting against Dominic’s thigh as it had been standing stiffly in the air. The flaccid cock, however, Daisuke took as a sign that perhaps he was overstaying his welcome. 

“Well,” Daisuke murmured, drawing his hand away. “Um, thank you, Adonis.”

The man chuckled and rolled away. Throwing on a satin robe camouflaged against the wall panels, he smiled. “My pleasure. Come by anytime, Constable.” 


End file.
